Where?
by lisseer
Summary: Anna goes to ME, specifically Mirkwood. Instead of being rescued by Legolas, she is now lost, miserable, and starving in a mucky forrest.
1. MarySue's Intro

Chapter the First  
  
Mary-Sue's Intro: A Violent Life History and an Account of How She Defies Logic and Goes to Middle Earth  
  
My name is Anna. I am very normal. My eyes have never changed colour, my hair falls within the range of normal human hair colours, and I do not hate my very normal life. I was headed off to my friend's house for a sleep over. A friend who was neither going to be murdered, nor my only friend in the world. We were going to have one of those watch-silly-cartoons-and-kid's-movies-until-morning. It was just dark (I live northern enough it gets dark a bit early), and I was just just crossing the road, when there was this squeaky tire sound and an odd view of shiny reflector tape. Something hit me fairly hard. In hindsight, I realize this is a truly insulting thing to happen to someone who is being set up for an epic plot crushing Mary Sue. They are supposed to be hit by a car . . . driven by a drunk driver . . . while fleeing from some person who was going to kill them. But, no, I got run over by some maniac on a bicycle! Insulting.  
  
Ok, so then I don't remember much, but there was that fuzzy awful feeling of having all the air smashed out of you. I felt someone roll me over.   
  
"Hey," I slurred, "don't do that, what if my neck is broken or something," I trailed off into a random mumble.  
  
"Cnapa?" [Lad? {see note #1}]  
  
"whaa?" The world was beginning to come back. . . into something weird.  
  
"Weird clothes there." I thought, "Was that some kind of bike outfit? Seriously, I thought they wore sleek, aerodynamic stuff. I mean, who wears-  
  
"Wha bealan thu?" [What happened to you?] Wait, there is someone talking to me. Right, I was run over by a bike. No wonder I hurt a lot. I twitched a bit to see if I could still move. Yes, so probably nothing broken. Not to say that nothing hurt. . .   
  
"-habban thu brecan awiht?" [- have you broken anything?] Oh, a guy is speaking at me.   
  
"I, I think, I'm ok, or something, just bashed a bit." I moved to sit up, and a few hands helped me. The world was getting less grainy by the second.  
  
"hider" [here] Another voice. Why couldn't I understand that? It'd probably clear up with my vision.  
  
"hider," it repeated and some other hands gave me a cup, and helped me take a drink of . . . bleech! Ok, I know there is that whole burnt toast taste thing, but that was really bad water. And it didn't really taste like burnt toast. More like they got it out of a puddle. I looked up.  
  
"Asian him gif he cunnan hwaer we agan gan. . . neah se burg to se north?"[Ask him if he know where we have gone. . . near the village to the north?]  
  
"Ic gefdan full . . . beon losian on min agen land!"[I feel very . . . to be lost on my own land . . .]   
  
"Ryce, we beon ealle fah." [Ryce, we're all at fault.]  
  
"Hider, cnapa, beon ne in burig neah? Thu cunnan hwaer thu beon? [Here lad, be not a village near? You know where you are?]  
  
"I think I might be ok, I, I ... " I said. I was starting to feel less deadishly roadkill like. "here, I'll just go home, and, ahhh, maybe you could call my parents, or, or here I'll give you their number, and, um, I think, here I'll just sit here, and I'll be fine in a moment, you'll see..." One of the dudes put his hand on my forehead.   
  
"Na," he said turning to one of the others, "ne adlig." [No, not ill]  
  
"Butan ic hicgan gif beon ne in micel dynt to se hafela." [But I wonder if be not some great blow to the head.]  
  
"Motan beon reafere bereofan ealle his aeht ac ge-logian him her." [Maybe robbers stole all his possessions and left him here.]  
  
"Heoron beon his pohha. Flaet beon hoary open." [Here is his bag. It's been torn open.]  
  
"Beon too deorc to findan ure foldweg eac." [it is too dark to find our way in any case.]  
  
"Her, beran him ofer her, beon ma hleo. Ic agan se lig beginnan hrathe" [Here, bring him over here, it is more sheltered. I'll have this fire started in a bit.]  
  
"hwa gif se reafere cuman baec?"[What if the robbers come back?]  
  
"Eac beon cald!"[Besides, it's cold!] I blinked.  
  
"You know, the ambulance is really slow, if that is what you are waiting for. And seriously I really don't need one. I really don't think I have any kind of concussion. Could you guy's lend me a cellphone to call my parents?" I eased off my shoe to get a better look at my swelling ankle. They ignored what I was had said.   
  
"He beon riht, we ne sceawian." [He is right, we cannot see.]  
  
"Beon betera flaet we losian samod, ofer an be self. We don ne bethurfan to demm aelc other." [Better we are lost together, than one by himself. We don't want to loose eachother.] One of them picked me up. . .  
  
"Um, what, uh."   
  
"Don na forhtian." [Do not fear.] I blinked again. Why. Could. I. Not. Understand. That. The person, who really smelt like a campfire . . . amoungst other things . . . only carried me over to where there were a couple others.   
  
"Lowan, ge-logian his pohha her." [Lowan, put his bag here.] I blinked again. Wait. Where was. . . why was. . . something was very wrong about this. But maybe I'm just not used to being in a forrest. FORREST!?!  
  
THE NOTES: 1. She has short hair, and pants, so to them its a given that she is a he. Also note that her name is Anna, which is elvish for Ôgift'. It would have been clever, had not that been a favourite sudo-name of, gasp, M - - - S- -. (There are also a few good stories with characters called Anna, but that is beside the point.) I also picked it because The Saxons, if I'm not totally wrong, probably would have known a few Anna's. 


	2. A Well Thought Through Exit

Chapter the Second A Well Thought Through Exit . . .   
  
"Aaaaahh, I'm in a forrest!!!!" I panicked. I was in a forrest!?! Maybe I was being kidnapped!!! I began random squeaking noises of panic. Glancing around I noticed this was not a lovely forrest, it was an old one, with gnarly twisted things making scary shapes all around, which were compounded in my fragile mental state with numerous scary nature noises. My mind was turning over every nightmarish scenario it could come up with. My parents would be forced to pay ransom money . . . I would be murdered . . . and my cold dead carcass found many months from now. Escape! Now!!! I whipped around and made a dive into the forrest.  
  
"Smack" came the sound of my head smashing into an ill positioned tree. A few stars buzzed up into my vision. Someone ran over too me. I was reduced to a quaking mount of jelly, so I did the only thing I could.  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhh," I screamed.  
  
"Don ne bisgu, we beon FREOND. Se feondsceatha beon fleon. Beon thu hus?" [It is ok, we're FRIEND. The robbers are gone. Are you hurt?] Whoever it was propped me up so I was sitting against a tree and patted my shoulder encouragingly.  
  
"Beon he ealle riht?" [Is he alright?]  
  
"Unggipph!" I managed, looking around at the nasty forrest, my eyes came to an unfocused rest on someone trying to start a fire. I wondered through my fuzzy panic why he didn't just use a match. . .   
  
"Beon the fot hus?" [Is your foot hurt?] said the person crouched close to me. I stared back dumbly, the fear dropping into my belly. . . fear is apparently not digestible.  
  
"Motan ic beseon to the fot?" [May I look at it?] He said gesturing kindly at my shoeless foot. I blinked.  
  
"Ic don ne myntan beon brecan. Ic myntan beon on onbugan," [I do not think it is broken. It just looks like a sprain] he said, looking up at me. "Ic neontan thin halscath to bewerian se fot," [I'll use your neck-cloth to wrap it up,] he continued, pulling off my scarf. Was he going to hang me! But instead of stringing me up in one of the trees, he wrapped it around my ankle like a bandage.   
  
"Hey, wait a second, that was really nice," I though. I felt my blind panic lessen, and the movement returning to me.   
  
"Th, th, thank you," I managed. Some others came over.   
  
"Don thu maelan eanig englisc?" [Do you speak any english?]  
  
"Engliscgereorde? Do thu cunnan eanig?" [English? Do you know any?]  
  
"Beon thu fra neah?" [Are you from near?] I stared at them with somewhat very wide and blank eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, I, I, I, I don't understand," I said, preparing myself to learn that I had lost some vital part of my brain like Wernick's area.  
  
"Don thu asmeagan eanig engliscgereorde?" [Do you understand any english.]  
  
"Thu. Asmeagan? Englisc?" [You. Understand? English?"]  
  
"Ummm?" What were the going on about English?  
  
"Ic hige he beon swingan ful heard on se wisian." [I thought he was just hit very hard on the head.]  
  
"Motan he beon." [Maybe he was.]  
  
"Wha we don nu?" [What do we do now?] said one of them pointing at me, and then making a shrugging motion. Ok wait, I get it, they want to know my name. They need it to find my parents to demand the ransom money.  
  
"Me? My name?  
  
"Don he cwethan hw¾hwugu gelic,Ômin nama,'?" [Did he just say something like, Ômy name'?]  
  
"Anna McLoed. . . " I had the distinct feeling I had all at once an unusually undivided audience.  
  
"A- Anna McLeod." I nodded.  
  
"McLeod?"   
  
"Yes.  
  
"Don eow myntan he beon in leod? Thu. Leod?" [Do you think he is a prince? You. Prince.] What? That I really wasn't getting.  
  
"Ic hicgan he motan leasungan . . ." [I think He may be lying . . .]  
  
"Oflfe fea bifian inne se heafod." [Or a little shaken around in the head.]  
  
"Aiiii, min lig byrnan ne! Hwear beon se - Eeeii" [Ah, my fire went out! Where is the- OWW!]  
  
"We. Findan. Thu. Hider." [We. Found. You. There.] said one of them.   
  
"Thu," [You,] he said pointing at me, "Hider," [Here,] he pointed to the forrest,"Eac swa fleat," [Like this,] he concluded, laying down and making an imitation of someone dead. He repeated the mime a few times, but it was getting dark very quickly so I could only see him halfway. Was he saying they had found me laying the the forrest? I pointed at him, and then made a searching motion, and then pointed at me. I had to repeat many times, but he eventually got it. He nodded vigorously.   
  
If I had thought the scinerio I had first found myself in was somewhat disturbing, this was fifty times as scary. If this weird guy was telling the truth . . . then they had found me in this forrest. That meant there was someone else who had put me there. My real kidnapper! Probably the same murderous bicyclist. . . I felt all the food in my belly coagulate. Strange haircuts or not, these people had probably saved my life.  
  
THE NOTES  
  
ÔAnna' for The Saxons could be a boys name, in fact it was the name of a Saxon king. McLeod means "son of the prince". 


	3. Murderous Lunatics

Chapter the Third Murderous Lunatics are Behind Every Tree . . .   
  
It took at least half an hour for them to even get a fire started. That was 107,999 second too long. It takes unbelievably long to coaxes a tiny spark into even the smallest of flames. And then you have to slowly build it up. . .  
  
"Please God, don't let the scary guy kill me. Please God, don't let the scary guy find us."   
  
"Beon thu ealle riht Anna?" [Are you alright Anna] said one of them from the other side of where their pathetic fire was smoldering. I could see them in the less than adequate light. I could count four, and I was between two of them. I looked around. The fire showed a ring of forrest which crawled back and away until it was complete darkness. I could see the light glinting eerily off of patches of grey and dirty snow.  
  
I edged closer into the fire, if that was possible. I little later I noticed my coat was melting, and so inched back a bit. The one in the black jabbed the fire with a stick. A few minutes later one of them put another branch on. A while later I noticed how the fire had melted all the snow around, and that I was now very wet. I moved closer to the fire to dry out. Some slush fell off a tree and down the back of my coat. I clawed it out with a yelp. One of the others had the nerve to think it was funny. A while later one of the other sneezed a few times. A while after that one of them tossed another branch on. A while later someone said something unintelligible. A while later I got hit with slush again. I noted that it was warm enough that there was slush. . . very odd for December. I glanced at the others. They weren't saying much at the moment. They just looked pretty cold. A wood tepee collapsed in the the flames with a gentle thuck sending a shower of sparks up. For being the scariest night of my life it was almost as frighteningly peaceful. For the fact that there was probably some maniac creeping up behind me about to smash the life out of everyone here . . . ahhh . . .   
  
"What do I do." I though, " what do I do. God? What? What? What? God, what do I do?"   
  
I blinked. It was a lot lighter than it had looked a few seconds ago . . . or maybe I nodded off. I looked around. No one had moved much. One of them was leaned over and drooling slightly, but otherwise everything was the same. I felt unbelievably stiff, and cold. In the somewhat light I got a better look at my rescuers. They had very . . . unusual garments. Maybe there were extreme hippies. Or maybe they were just wearing these strange clothing because they were suited for outdoor camping . . . but there was surely better stuff from Mountain Equipment Co-op. But who really cares how they felt like dressing, or how they cut their hair, they did after all save my life. . . or at least that is what they said.  
  
"I have to go to the bathroom," I thought. I crawled behind a tree, keeping an eye out for maniacs. I started crawling back around the tree, wondering vaguely about toilet paper. But they were gone! The whole camp was gone! There was just the dark shape of trees around. I felt the now familiar feeling of swallowing my heart. But wait a moment. . . there they were . . . I hobbled back and sat down again, feeling very relieved. The one I had though was in black woke up with a start, and rubbed his eyes. He jabbed the others awake.   
  
"Aweccan, ealle becuman loeht" [Wake up, it is getting light.] The other got up. They looked somewhat like I felt. . One in pale red dumped some snow on the fire, which died miserably.  
  
"Hider, cuman betweox us fleat thu cunnan gan." [Here, come between us so that you can walk.] One of them said, make elaborate gestures. I looked somewhat non-comprehensively back.  
  
"Hider," [Here] he said pulling me up, "Ge-logian thin hlast on me." [Put your weight on me.]  
  
"Anbidan, thin pohha." [Wait, your bag.]  
  
"What?" One of them waved my bag in front of me.  
  
"Pohha." [Bag.]  
  
"Ic beran se pohha." [I'll carry it.]  
  
"Wait, it is came open." I tried to zip it up, but the zipper had been smashed. Oh well, not that it really mattered, but it was really nice of these people to even care about it.   
  
"Hider, betynan fleat gelic fleat foldwig," [Here, close it like this,] one of them tied a few decorative strings together.  
  
"Ealle riht? Leatan us gan." [Alright, lets go.]  
  
"Look, I just really wanted to say thank you for saving my life." "Gif thu bethurfan to cunnan se foldweg to eanig lecgan ic magan to helpan thu. [If you need to know the way to any place, I can help you.] The chatty fellow was obviously very sure of the direction he was going in.  
  
" Min feader agen se land abutan hider, forthy ic cunnan se land ful feagere. Beon in burg neah min ham . . . of for. We willan helpan thu to se burg. Thu forstandan. Burg. Neah."[My father owns the land around here, therefore I know the land around here very well. There is a town near my home . . . of course. We are willing to help you there. You understand? Town. Near.] I got the feeling that they had at least understood the important parts of me speech. The fellow had just made some humble comments most likely . . . something about just being in the area.  
  
"I really will be indebted to you forever.  
  
"Is butu eower feader land. He is min brother. Us. Brotheran." [It is both of our father's. He's my brother. Us. Brothers.] I smiled and nodded. It was strange, but I actually understood a few words when they said them very, very slowly. They just had a really strong accents. . . they were probably going to turn out to be unusual European tourist . . .   
  
THE NOTES: Ok, I admit I have changed the thorn thingies to Ôth' and ¾ to Ôea' but that is because they show up as something else. 


	4. Now We Are All Lost

Chapter the 4th: Now We Are All Lost   
  
We had been walking for a long time. It had never actually gotten completely light in the forrest, for despite the fact that all the leaves had fallen the trees were very old and had grown very close together. In the summer I'm sure it would have been closer to dark than light. Actually it was all very creepy, and after hours of tripping over the thick dead underbrush, and slipping on dead leaves, it still felt very creepy. The snow was melting off the trees above, but it froze when it landed making for some very icy patches. Long and growing icicles hung like stalactite which glowed clear and pitilessly.  
  
Back when the guy who had been so humble before was confidently leading our trip back to civilization I had learned the names of all my rescuers: Benidictus, Lowan, Sala, and Ryce. Now, hours later the confidence of our self-appointed leader, Ryce, was beginning to wane.  
  
"We sculan beon onweg of th¾t holt be nu," [We really should be outside of the forrest by now,] he said dropping me. Break time. But though in my heart I found a certain element of celebration, I might wish it had not been in a pile of melting snow. Or in this creepy forrest. . .   
  
The others crouched around.   
  
"Don thu agan ¾nig hige to hw¾r we heord?" [Do you have any idea where we are?]" asked Sala. Ryce through up his hands and burst out,  
  
"Ic agan beode inne th¾t holt in hund hwilu. Hit is ne efne th¾t great! Inne ord hit is ful m¾te! We sculan beon ganodon inne abutan!!!" [I have been in the forrest a hundred times. It is not even that big! In fact it is very small! We must be walking in circles!!!]  
  
Silence settled over our group. I was getting an inkling of what was the case. Yes, they were lost. We were all lost.   
  
"You know the best thing to do when you are lost is to stay in one place. That way the search parties will be able to find you," I interjected. I made some general hand gestures in a pathetic attempt to convey the fact.  
  
"Motan beon we heord gan in abutan," [Maybe we were going in circles,] suggested Benicdictus.  
  
"Nymfle . . ." [Unless. . . ] said Ryce.  
  
"Nymfle? [Unless?] said Benidictus  
  
"Don this beseon th¾t holt we ganode on." [Does this look like the forrest we entered.]  
  
"Hu ic cunnan," [How would I know,] muttered Sala.   
  
"Na, na, na, th¾t beamu beseon ellorg¾st," [No, no, no, the trees look different," clued in his little brother, Lowan.  
  
"Hwlec th¾t andgit of is we agan gan forhwega cl¾ne other," [Which means we've gone somewhere totally different,] ended Ryce.  
  
"Forthy we sculan ceosan hwelc ¾fre ¾ghwede naleas to findan forhwega . . . ahw¾r. And th¾t is?" [So we should pick whatever direction is guarrenteed to meet up with somewhere. . . anywhere. And that would be?] said Benidictus.  
  
"F¾gere motan beon east?" [Well perhaps east?] said Ryce. "East? I beon hicganeth ma north-wes." [I was thinking more north-west.] said Sala.  
  
"F¾gere we metan th¾t ®ttrynesceap ea. Th¾t is forheard ne to findan, efne inne in holt," [Well we'll meet the ®ttrynesceap river. That would be hard to miss, even in a forrest,] said Ryce.  
  
"Hit is be healf in d¾ges gan, ac he is riht," [It is about half a days walk, but he is right,] said Sala, "We motan ne findan Wesban gif we agan scrithanode to feor." [We might miss Wesban if we have wandered too far .]  
  
"Ic eom hungor!" [I'm starving!] said Lowan, rubbing his belly.  
  
"Gelic ¾lc an elles hider, dol," [So is everyone else, stupid,] shot back his big brother.  
  
"Ic eom ne th¾t dol an . . . dysig." [I'm not the stupid one. . . stupid.] The two began to yell at each other, and I'm sure it would have come to blows had not the quiet guy (Benidictus) quite suddenly said,  
  
"Beon giet, beon giet. Hlystan. Cunnan eow ne hieran th¾t." [Be quiet, be quiet. Listen. Can't you hear that.] They all fell silent again, and this time we heard it. Or rather heard the lack of it. The forrest was stiflingly silent, like evil had veiled it, and wanted to smother all life from anyone who had been unfortunate enough to wander into it's grasp. Like it was an enchanted forrest. This was stupid. I shook my head and coughed. Enchanted forrest? What was I thinking. The others did the same.  
  
"Hit is nawiht. Th¾t hrith helm th¾t breahtm." [It is nothing. The snow muffles the noise.] said Ryce. It was a few seconds before Sala spoke up.  
  
"L¾tan us gan," [Let's go,] he said standing, and pulling me up. We all began walking, or as in my case hobbling and hopping. I still thought it would be smarter to just stay in one place, but then of course the Murderous Lunatic might find us before the search parties did. 


	5. We Are All Still Lost

Chapter the Fifth: Mary-Sue's bag of junk to the rescue. . . or maybe it's just a bag of junk. Also know as: We Are All Still Lost.  
  
We walked for hours more with no change in anything. There was no end to the trees, no end to the cold, and no end to the number of dark shadows. I was starting to get really, very hungry. I felt gross. Ikky, ikky. And everyone smelled really bad. I guess being hungry makes me grumpy.   
  
We only stopped a couple times to melt some dirty snow in our hands and drink it. No one was really talking much, but no-one had to, to get on each other's nerves.  
  
Hours later Sala dropped me on some more melting snow. It was beginning to get darker. We were in a slight clearing, and I could look up and see the sky through a tunnel up through the trees.  
  
We had been soggy all day, but the ground was soggier. Everyone tried to start a fire, even I pitched in, trying to get a spark to light the kindling. When it finally caught, night had fallen. The others talked quietly, but I could not understand them. Lowan was playing with the toggles on my bag. I couldn't believe that we were lost in a forrest starving and they still insisted on carrying around my pajamas. I shook my head, I couldn't believe I had let them. I grabbed it and began riffling through.  
  
"Hey, this is a bit edible," I said out loud pulling out my toothpaste. "I mean its bad to eat it, but oh well. And you know what I bet this soap is nontoxic too." I dumped out my bag. Then I saw IT. One lone happy box of Smarties.   
  
"Smarties!" I squealed. I got the feeling that others, if I indeed could see them had a blank look on their faces. Surely they had smarties in . . . where ever they were from. . . But if they did indeed not know what these were I could just go behind a tree and eat them all. . . no, these people were my rescuers, and consequently my friends, and we were going to be fair. . . I divided them up equally.  
  
"Hwelc hie sindon," [What are these,] said Lowan, examining the smarties in the firelight. I shoved my handful into my mouth, and the others got the idea.  
  
"Hie sindon ful god," [Those are pretty good,] said Sala, "a ic motan ne gelic to hwelc hi eor." [but I'd hate to find out what they were.] The others laughed.  
  
"But don't forget, it is candy, so you should brush your teeth," I said giving the useless toothpaste tube a nudge with my foot. Lowan grabbed it.   
  
"Hwelc hit is?" [What is this,] he said looking at it. Ryce grabbed it next,  
  
"Ic don ne cunnan." [I don't know.]   
  
"It's toothpaste. You guys know," I pointed at my mouth.  
  
"Ah, hit is gelic in forstrang etan, o§§e fodor" [Oh, it is a spice, or food."]   
  
"L¾tan me cunnan hit," [Let me try it,] said Sala, once again grabbing it. He tried to pull of the lid, but Benidictus unscrewed it first.  
  
"Th¾t beon ne god!" [This stuff is awful!] said Lowan.  
  
"W-heataneng tu-ut-hpost?" said Sala.  
  
"W-heatanin-g, hweat- tanin-g, hwit an ¾nig hieran, hieran, ic forstandan hwelc Anna is cwethan-" [W-heatanin-g, , hweat- tanin-g,. . . white one any, hey, hey, I understand some of what Anna's saying.  
  
"Ne, th¾t ne don andgit," [No, that doesn't make any sense,] said Ryce.  
  
"Thu midd writan," [You mean writing,] corrected Benidictus.  
  
"Gea." [Yes.] We were actually almost (emphasis on almost) a merry party for the next couple of hours. But eventually the laugher died down, and we where left surrounded by the absolute darkness. Our fire seemed like a tiny bubble in the forrest, and if you walked outside of its light you really could not see anything.  
  
It was bitterly cold that night. There was a cold breeze which tried to freeze all the wet bits of my clothes. . . which was everything. It also froze all the water. Slowly the dark turned to dim light, but I not could describe what the hours were like waiting for it with any justice. It didn't get fully light in that forrest of course; the tree were too old, gnarled and close together. I looked at the others. They looked what I felt. Wet, dirty and miserable. The older ones had scruffy hair growing on their faces. Everyone had a lot of tiny cuts, red faces which stung, and very runny noses.  
  
We all got up and I noted that despite the fact they had been obsessive about dragging my bag of clothes, which various members of The Tourists were now wearing under their tunics to keep them warmer, my shoe, which corresponded with my messed-up foot, was now somewhere far, far, far behind.  
  
The bag (of junk) was left behind, and we trooped off, rather out of a strange sense of duty, the source of which I am unable to say, but most likely stupidity.  
  
All we did was walk that day. Maybe they were trying to get somewhere. We tried hard, though I did not even know what it was I was trying for. I suppose it was simply the act of trying. I wondered where we were going.  
  
There weresome berries, which Sala said were edible, and the Ryce said they weren't, and it turned out the latter was right and the former disproved his point by puking. Otherwise everyone just melted a lot of slush in their hands and drank it. All we saw of any living creatures was one lone bird between a space in the tree. Flying above, it could see the end to this forrest, but none of us on the ground could.   
  
I saw some of the underbrush growing green. It stuck me as very brave plants. They do not normally grow in December. Although it did seem to be rather warm for about a week before the coldest time of the year. It struck me then, that is was very important we got unlost very soon. It is nasty and wet having snow melting onto you, but temperatures if temperatures were at minus forty, or even half that, with a terrible wind-chill. . . especially dressed like my, um, companions, are fatal.  
  
"Please God, get us out of this very, very soon," I prayed.   
  
A soggy slush began pelting down off the trees. It must have been getting warmer above the trees. It was so quite that one wanted to say anything to break the splat, splat.  
  
Then dark came, like I knew it would. After the hours had ticked by, I knew it would get dark. I had just hoped it wouldn't. The prospect of spending another night in this forrest was absolutely terrifying. It was like we in the belly of a very enormous beast, just waiting for a bunch of digestive juices to render us into beast fuel and fertilizer.  
  
Once again somehow we got a fire started. I was beginning to have a healthy appreciation for people in history books in the times before matches. Beside me Lowan looked up at the stifling canopy sadly. I looked up to, but the sight was a fairly depressing solid darkness. 


	6. Very Creepy Laughter

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE. JUST TRUST ME AND READ THIS. As you will notice shortly I have indeed changed the names of two of the charactors. (Yes, I finally learned a little about Saxon names.) So Ricyn is now Ryce, and Fian is now Sala (don't worry that is just a nickname.) And I learned that Anna is the name of a Saxon king . . . I know, this is all just mean and evil. It is ok. Just write me a really mean review, and go ahead and vent. THE NOTE HAS NOW ENDED.  
  
Chapter the 6th: Very Creepy Laughter.  
  
I sat staring into the flames thinking very sage campy thoughts. Or maybe about how good food was. Beside me others were curled up and asleep. Staring into the flames, I wondered how I got into such a strange mess. That without warning my jolly little comfort zone, populated by familiarity, could so very suddenly be . . . just gone. Something like like sleep turns night into day in a moment . . . the grey twighlight gone in a moment without ever being noticed. . . unnoticed . . . yes, that was an apt analogy.  
  
I let out a miserable and dramatic sigh . . . the shadows of the world surrounding us . . . a tiny bubble of hope ready to burst. . . maybe the is was all just a drea- just then I caught sight of Ryce across the fire. He looked somewhat less than impressed. He exhaled slowly and said, "Thu heord ful in leod." [You really are a prince.]  
  
I woke up a with a streak of drool down the side of my face. Sala, the only other one not awake, woke up moments later with a snort. I rubbed my eyes, and proceeded to run through the repetoire of squeaks and whines usually used when one wakes up cold and miserable. But our symphonic chorus of waking up noises was cut short. In the distance I heard the sound of faint laughter. I looked over at the others, and written all over their faces was evidence of their having heard it also. I was probably the most unsettling laughter I have ever heard. It was not insane murderous lunatic laughter, nor was it just a bunch of tourist roasting marshmallows. We stared at each other, all wondering if we had just imagined it. We did not hear the sound again, perhaps because we took care to make lots of noise.  
  
The light had began to show. We all began to walk again. My foot was not getting any better, but none of the others could really help me, so I just hobbled. We walked for hours again. All at once Benidictus fell down. We all ran over to him.  
  
"Aii, min hafela onhwyrfan," [Ahh, my head spins,] he said rubbing his head. Everyone else knew exactly what he was talking about. I had a feeling that just drinking out of puddles was a very bad idea, though I hardly wish to enlighten anyone on the joys of how I was beginning to realize this.  
  
The others sat down beside Benidictus, I sat down on a fallen branch. I leaned back, and looked up at the branches around. When I had first woke up here it had been scary, but once that had worn off there was this small element of fun. Not that being cold and wet had been fun. But you could almost call it an adventure. It was just like it was easy to pray if you are pretty sure it will be answered, no matter what. But now it wasn't an exciting adventure. The realization was falling on us all. The forrest was going to consume us. I was sitting in this forrest waiting to die, and wondering who would die first. Me, or one of my companions. I wondered if I would go to heaven. Somehow or other a sob escaped out of me. There were a lot of things I hadn't really thought about before . . . it had seemed like there wasn't any hurry.  
  
We tried to walk so more. It was getting warmer, so the next few hour made everyone not only wet, by also very muddy. Nobody said anything, and the forrest was equally quiet.  
  
We knew that the night was coming so once again we tried to start a fire, but try as we did, we could not get it started. And tears only made the kindling wetter. We sat together watching the darkness come, again.  
  
Huddled around in the dark, a cold breeze blew on our frozen faces and hands. None of us slept. None of us talked. That was when I saw it. Lights in the forrest. A search party!  
  
"Look, look," I yelled.   
  
"Hey, hey, we're here." I yelled running and limping towards the light. And all at once it was gone. I tripped on a root and fell flat down on the wet semi-frozen ground. The others came running behind and one of them tripped over me. The other found there way over following the sound of Ryce's voice. I think he was calling after the lights. That was when we all heard it. Singing. Not normal humans singing and whistling, but like bells which formed into words I couldn't understand. Not that that was so unusual. I couldn't understand my friend here either. I could feel the other freeze. I did too. It sounded errie, but happy, like it mocked us. Then I saw the lights again. They danced in the forrest. I sprang up after them.  
  
"Alvur!  
  
"Anna, na!" I ran towards the light. One of them grabbed me and pulled me down like a rugby player. I wiggled half away.   
  
"Anna don ne folgian se leoht. Alvur! Eow cwellan thu! Don thu na forstandan ! . . . lician forstandan . . ." [Anna don't follow the light. Elves! They will kill you! Don't you understand! . . . please understand . . .] We were both crying now. "Don ne folfian se leohtur Anna, lician." [Don't follow the light, Anna, please.] I stopped. He was way stronger than me. Just then one of the others let out a somewhat banshee-like yell.   
  
"Ic gebindan, Ryce, Ryce." [I'm stuck, Ryce, Ryce.] Ryce grabbed the back of my coat and took off towards where Lowan was yelling.  
  
"Ic is gebindan, and ic cunn ne begietan ge¾metigan," [It is all sticky, and I can't get myself free, "] he begged. The others ran into us behind. I tried helping, but none of us could see. I touched something very sticky Then moon can through the trees. A shiver went down my spin. There were huge falling down cobwebs. They had leaves stuck all over them, but where Lowan had run into them had been more sheltered, and so it had still been sticky. Ryce let out a cry, and ripped his little brother backward. I heard his clothes tearing, but Ryce got him free. We all took off into the wood. We were all crashing into things a lot, but we were still running pretty fast, just trying to get away from the cobwebs. Not that small harmless spiders are scary, it was just plain that those weren't spun by a small harmless spider. I strange thought passed into my head that all those books were wrong, and bugs really did come in man eating size. That was when the lights appeared again. It might be the Murderous Lunatics, but I ran headlong to the light.  
  
THE NOTES  
  
Lord of the Rings elves are GOOD, but in common norse mythology (which I assume, perhaps wrongly, that her companions would have had, though not exactly, but similar mythology) elves are NOT GOOD. Actually their sneaky little things that like to enchant people, and make them dance to their death . . . or seduce them, kill them, lure them too their doom and death. Baaaad. So her friend are perhaps a bit uneasy about trouping off to the elves. 


	7. Perfect Perfectly Angry Beings

Anna's companions (Ryce, Lowan, Benedictus, and Sabert, aka. Sala) are Saxons from pre. 1066 AD. I thought that if there were all these modern characters from earth that get to go to middle earth and have adventures, it would only be fair if a few earthlings from other times got to go and have adventures in middle earth too!  
  
And to this narrative I am adding yet another voice. No, not Legolas Bloom, no. No, I am adding the narrator, an anonymous voice which merely states the facts as they are, and then allows you to return to the confused world of our most belov?d characters. I find that the narrator likes to write in bold, but as I, unlike the narrator, am completely incompetant, the narrator will have to settle for being within a series of dots, like this:  
  
..................  
narrator speaks  
......................   
  
And lastly to overcome the problem of Westron. . . if it is in { } s, that means it is in Westron, so Anna cannot understand it.  
  
Chapter the 7th: Perfect Perfectly Angry Beings  
  
....................  
The Mirkwood elves are rather ticked at having their party crashed by Anna, especially since it was their first feast of the season, and was therefore sort-of special. Though their prisoners might just have be disoriented, starving, pathetic humans, who were where they were due to a series of perfectly conceivable mishaps, the more likely, the far more likely, reason is that they are indeed up to absolutely no good.   
......................   
  
I climbed out of bed. That had been one weird dream. I walked to the kitchen. Wow, there was all this food! Heaps and heaps of it! My mom must have gone shopping and bought the entire store!   
Not wait, that was just a dream too. I was back in bed again. But it was a bit chilly. I guess I kicked off all the blankets. I squeaked and reached for my blankets on the floor. My knuckles rapped into something very solid and hard. I squeaked again, now wide awake. Stone floor? I tried to push myself up with my hands, but it felt like I was trying to push the floor away, which is of course impossible. The light around seemed as veiling as the dark shadows in the forrest, and I blinked, blinded and lost in a undimensional flat.  
  
A hand lifted me up a bit by the back of my coat, so I was sitting on my knees. I could make out shapes and differences in the light. I could hear a clear voice speaking, but I did not even recognize the sounds. It droned on and on as my vision began to clear, "{-the first feast of the the season, and you come and ruin it-}" I began to distinguish there was a pattern on the floor. "{- if you were two feet shorter, I'd throw you in prison until you had rot.}" I could make out forms, but what they were I couldn't tell. "{-maybe that would teach you! Or -}" I shook my head hard trying to make something clearer of the shapes and sound. "{exactly. And another-}" My vision finally cleared a little more, but I didn't look in the direction of the voice. The voices frightened me in the way the laughter in the forrest had. I didn't want to see the source.  
  
My eyes slowly focused on something over my shoulder. I saw a boy lying on floor. He looked ghastly, all scratched up, with a bruise on his face, and his clothing dirty and torn. It took me a moment to realize that it was Lowan. I opened my mouth in horror. I thought, I truly really thought, that Lowan was dead. I remembered his crying to his big brother that night in the forrest, and how I couldn't help. And how I had tried to get to the light. I was so frightened. I wanted to save them. I had tried.   
  
"{-pay attention! Now, when I say-}"  
  
I turned my head to face the source of the voice. There was a figure seated, the one speaking. About him where more figures, all looking at me. Despite having the same features as a human, there was not possible way I would ever call what was before me human. Not human, Not real. It couldn't be real. It wasn't real. Nothing like them was real. Clearly not real. A hallucination. I felt something rise up from my feet. I tried to fight it, tried to think something rational, but so many days had taken their toll. There was absolutely no part in my brain that could say anything rational. There was no voice of reason.   
  
......................   
Having realized that Anna had understood nothing that Thranduil was saying, probably because she proceeds to have a complete nervous breakdown at his feet, the elves decide to toss Anna and the Saxons, who are still snoozing under the anti-party-basher spell (see The Hobbit), in jail, until they are a little more sensible. Actually they were going to toss them in jail for a bit, regardless. They, unlike the Saxons, do not mistake Anna for a boy, and so very decently toss her in a cell all by herself.   
......................   
  
I blinked in the dark, unsure if I had just woken up or, and if it had all been a dream. Has I . . . had there been these . . was Lowan . . . dead? Was Lowan real? I sat there is the dark empty too afraid to move. Too afraid to breath.  
Finally I turned over, and reached out a hand. There was a small amount of light coming in a line above. Crawling a little closer I banged into a wooden wall. I shuddered. I slowly walked on my knees, tracing the dimentions around, dragging my hand along the wall which changed from wood to cold stone. 


	8. Elvish Dungions

{"Westron"}  
[Translation of Westron, Elvish, or Old English]  
  
Chapter the 8th:  
  
I was really very ill for the next few days. I was ill enough not to question how food might just appear. I lay on my back on the pile of branches, and blankets, staring up into the dark. My strange new reality was very cold, and empty. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know why or how I got there. The possibilities where too dreadful to consider for long, but the idea of murderous lunatics played a prominent part. Or maybe I went insane and fell into a manhole.  
  
I began to nibble on a half eaten piece of bread. I wasn't very hungry, and it wasn't very good. . . I was pretty sure that I really had been in the a forrest with The Tourists, because there wasn't really a lot of other good reasons I would be so filthy. My clothes were so mucky, they had a certain stiff quality about them.  
  
But if my being lost in the forrest was real, had . . . had that other part been real to? The part with those things talking at me. I remember it very clearly, and I remembered waking here . . . but I also knew I had been very sick. And because of that I knew that I might have - must have been so sick that I imagined things. That was why when I walked around my legs were all shaky. Because I had been very, very sick. So sick I had been hallucinating. It had begun with those big cobwebs, and had just been getting worse. It made sense really. I was probably laying on the forrest floor right now. It made sense . . .  
  
Well really it didn't. Nothing in this horrible adventure made any sense at all. Being run over by a bicycle, waking up in forrest with a bunch of hippies, lost in the forrest, giant cobwebs and lectures from . . . well, whatever they were. I was trying so hard to understand it all, but it wasn't working.  
  
"I don't like it here, God" I admitted, "I am scared." I began to cry, for it was very, very true. A light fell across my face. Illuminated in the light was an . . . angel?  
  
"Nakh" [Come] he said. I stood up and ran out the door. I gladly followed beside the angel, not that I had much choice since he had a rather tight grip on my arm. The angel was talking to me, in long strings of nonsense, through passages and passages.  
  
Finally we came to a really big open space. There were many many angel, and I stared I them, very, very happy. I glanced down at the floor, and my joy came to a grinding halt. I recognized the pattern on the floor. It was the one I had seen in my dream. Angels, of course! That made sense, because of course an angel wouldn't look human! I had had a dream about angels! A lecture from an angel . . . who I could not understand . . . or was it real. . . was this real?  
  
I looked at the seated angel on the chair. . . size-wise more "throne". He was wearing a crown of green stuff, and had the staff just like in my dream . . . this wasn't making any sense.  
  
["You stand accused of trespassing on my realm, and disrupting a social gathering. What were you doing there?"] He paused as if expecting some kind of reply. Long moments passed. The angel on the throne began to talk to a angel beside him in a different language. I wondered if they were mistaking me for someone else. . . someone who actually did speak that language. I tried to summoned up enough courage to give them a hint. I tried to say something, but it got stuck somewhere around my belly. I tried again. It came out as a unintelligible string of nonsense. They didn't understand at all. There was something very, very, wrong with this picture. Very wrong.  
  
Just then very faintly I heard something that did indeed sound familiar. Or at least human. I spun around to see four dirty but alive Tourist being dragged along by angels. I was so happy to find out they were not dead that I tried to run after them, but one of the angels was hanging on to the back of my sweater. The angels dragged The Tourists infrount of the angel on the official seat. The sitee looked witheringly down at them. Lowan burst into tears.  
  
["Why were you tr-"] Sala interrupted, chanting something at the top of his lungs accompanied by the sounds of Lowan crying. The sitee looked furious, and said something,  
  
["Answer -"] But Benidictus and Ricyn only joined in. The sitee turned a livid pink, and shouted at them. The Tourists only chanted and yelled louder, and poor Lowan was letting out a mighty string of wails. The sitee looked terrifying. I began to cry too. The angels around began to whisper animatedly amongst themselves. The Tourist were yelling like their lives depended on it and Lowan was screaming and wailing, waving around his little knife, the tears making furrows on his muddy face. It was all too horrible. I covered my ears with my hands and cried harder.  
  
Someone grabbed me and was dragging me along, be I did not had the sense to look where we might be going, since I was still hysterically screaming my head off. They dropped me down on something I knew instantly. I jumped back up instantly. . . they wouldn't . . . they couldn't. Angels are not supposed to do that. They wouldn't would they. That wasn't angel-like. I squeezed my eyes open. It was definitely the room, or cell, or whatever you wanted to call it. I did not want to go back to being in the cell, whatever an angel might think. I was frightened. And I was a little angry too. But what was I going to do about it? Tunnel out? Back to delusional hysterics.  
  
...................................  
The prisoners after a few days and a few meals seemed to have gained some sense . . . or not. After this exhibition the angels are starting to have a few doubts. Of course the elves are pretty mad because their prisoners were rather rude, but after they had thought it through a bit they came to the highly logical conclusion that none of the prisoners spoke any Westron, and the prisoners were all completely out of their minds and delusional and not particularly dangerous. Though less wise than some other elves, they are not mean, and so acquit them on the grounds of mental incompetence. The prisoners could possibly be sent to Laketown, along with some barrels, but in the mean time the elves will see what they can do for them.  
  
The elves realize the girl dressed up as the guy doesn't even speak the same language as the others, though it is a little similar. Why she was running around in far off lands from her own dressed up presumably as a man is an interesting question, and after a great deal more (to much) thinking, they begin to suspect Anna was fleeing something (for love perhaps!) - just like in the really good songs . . .  
..........................  
  
I woke up on my familiar bed. I wondered if there had just dreamed that. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It did really seem like something I would have dreamt up. . . but on the other hand a brain working away in the dark . . .who knows. And besides the angels really didn't behave like angels. A shook my head, and decided it was a dream. I felt around in the dark for the bowl. I was actually pretty thirsty . . . actually I had a sore throat. . . weird. I couldn't find it. I sat back. All I could think about was how happy I'd been to see the angel had opened the door for me. But then it had gone all wrong. It had turned into a nightmare. I started to cry again, angry at myself for making it such a bad dream.  
  



	9. Aliens from Outerspace

Chapter 9th: Aliens from Outer-space  
A chapter where Legolas shows up nowhere, and a new theory is tabled.  
  
Starving in a forrest, unusual people . . . probably all dead . . . were there really spiders that big . . . four days . . . I think . . . and then here . . . miserably sick, lying in the dark . . . I don't know how long . . . and now . . . hallucinations, probably. Anna McLeod, aka me, lunatic. The thoughts went around my head like a load of laundry in the washing machine. Scrape, scrape, scrape.  
  
I had pried a piece of metal off my shoe and was now chipping little pieces out of the wall. Scrape, scrape, scrape. It was dark. It was cold. It was smelly. There was already a mark on the wall. It was impossible, I knew . . . I think . . . but it seemed like a very good idea at the time. Me and a shoe-tag, against solid rock. . . rock-solid rock. For some reason I thought I would have a hole. And it would get bigger, and bigger, and then I could tunnel out. . . Scrape scrape.  
  
I heard an unnatural "Ahem" behind me. I spun around, my heart pounding, sure I was going see a murderous lunatic, who'd proceed to smash my head in. . .  
  
The door was open, and there was an angel standing there saying,  
  
"Come, come along." Oh no, I though, it's going to happen again. First I would be so happy about leaving, and then it would go very bad and something terrible would happen and then I would wake up here again. . . I couldn't remember falling asleep.  
  
I looked at the angel and swallowed. Probably the whole place would light on fire, or the walls collapse. That would be suitably bad.  
  
"Stand up, and come along!" It was just like in my last dream. It was going to turn awful in a minute. My heart still pounded, and I couldn't think clearly. Do I try to run off? Try thinking positive thoughts about fuzzy teddy bears and bunnies? Ok, yes . . . think bunnies. Fuzzy happy bunnies. . . The angel looked down at me, his expression changing. I felt a hand grab the back of my sweater and pull me out the door.  
  
"Our king is very just, and makes allowances for mentally insane humans . . . mental incompetentness . . . that sort of thing. You are to travel to Laketown with some barrels in a months time. At least probably you will." He looked at me to see if I had absorbed any of his speech. Seeing that I didn't . . . really didn't . . . he continued on in some incomprehensible string of gestures, tapping his head a number of times meaningfully.  
  
Pulling me after him, he marched through a great number of progressively better lit rooms. They were probably important, but they passed by me in a succession of blurry streaks that left only a vague general impression of stone halls and torches on metal brackets. I blinked back a few tears, so I could see better, and whiped my drippy nose on my sleeve. There was passages and enclaves all around. The walls were all stone, and of course the torches. And the ceiling, stately dome-arches, black from smoke. A draft blew by, and I heard the faint sound of running water. Rushing water, more-like, but muffled.  
  
We kept on walking. My stocking feet making pit-pat sounds, the scarf dragging behind. . . the angel did make the slightest sound with his foot falls. Finally the he stopped, opened a wooden door and entered. More stone. It was not as light in this room, compared to the halls. There was a something spluttering and burning to one side.  
  
I felt a tap on my shoulder. The angel pointed firmly at a half barrel of water in the middle of the room. The angel looked like it wanted an acknowledgment, so I nodded. The angel walked to the door and out.  
  
I took a hesitant step into the room, unsure what to do now. It was not a very big room. There was a bed. There was a small table with the sputtery burning bowl on it, and a few other things, who knows what. And a lingering hint of herbs and spices. I turned and eyed the door. . . wood with metal setting. I pushed on it, but it didn't budge. I tried moving the metal piece, and it went easily. I threw open the door, but the hall was instantly black by the shapes of . . . now two angels? Make that three.  
  
The first angel l began again talking and gesturing away. There was obviously something I was supposed to understand, as if his unusual gestures were supposed to have some universal meaning. Some of the others suggested a few things. I stared, highly fascinated and confused. He concluded by putting his hand on he face, shaking his head, and entered the room.  
  
Picking up a piece of evil looking soap, he began acting out something. It took me a minute to realize he was acting out a tutorials of what soap was. The barrel of water was a bath? Realizing I finally understood, the angel tossed me the soap and left.  
  
Very suddenly I woke up lying on my bed. Of course I would. I began to cry. How I hated these dreams, even though nothing dreadful had happened in this dream, it had been too real. Much to real. I didn't want to wake up back in a nasty horrible prison.  
  
I moved my hand. I felt different. I realized what it was. My hand was drooping over the side of the bed. ???? I thought. I rolled over expecting to roll into the nasty, but familiar wall, but instead a great deal of nothing met me. . . . I woke up mid-fall. . . . Thud. I was now very awake.  
  
I was in the room. It had not been a dream! I wiggled out of the cocoon blanket which had gone to the floor with me and stood up in a daze. It was all real! I could see lights coming from around the door. I looked down, and I was defiantly wearing the unbleached white dress. . . sack . . thing they had given. I put my hands up in frount of my face inspecting them. The soap might not have floated, and it might not have made any bubbles, but it defiantly did its job, which after who knows how long of reeking, made me very happy. I looked around. The room was darkish, but not pitch.  
  
The walls reverberated with faint singing. I had heard something like it before in the forrest, but there I had not liked the sound. Actually I was still not sure if I liked it, but it was beautiful. I walked to the door over the cold floor, and open the door, blinking at the light. Sitting in the doorway I listened to the sound of the singing, even though I was still very tired. It was so beautiful that it made me feel sad inside. I closed my eyes, and it felt as if all the things around me were a part of the song. A very confusing song.  
  
I woke up again. I was still the doorway, but the singing had stopped, and was replaced by faint creepy laughter. I looked down the hall but I couldn't see where it was coming from. It was the same creepy laugher as I had heard in the forrest, but unlike the singing, I was very sure I did not like the laughter.  
  
I wondered if I would be able to find my way to the toilet. The angels had shown me where it was last night too. It seemed like something from a castle. Basically a hole in the floor. I suspected a direct line to a sewer . . or into a river. But beggars cannot be choosers, and I really had to go right now.  
  
I tried to guess at which way it had been . . . but after a few turns it was becoming clear that my guesses not been right. I walked through yet another room. They were all evidently some kind of storerooms. Dried herbs from the ceiling, dried meat, whole rounds of cheese, mostly empty baskets, bunches of onions, and lots of barrels. Lots and lots of barrels. I considered a little pilfering, but though better of it.  
  
I walked inside the nearest open door, and straight away bumped into a bunch of dried green stuff. I started at the sound. A few leaves fluttered to the ground, I swallowed a few times, stilling the swinging bunch with my hands.  
  
I couldn't see anywhere else to go in the crowded room. Turning around I started again, for there was two angels standing to one side of the door.  
  
"What are you doing here?" stated one of them, eyeing me. I felt my heart pounding inside me again.  
  
I had thought angels were supposed to make you feel better, and tell you stuff, but all the angels I had met so far . . . didn't quite fit the stereotype. A disturbing conclusion-theory weaseled into my thoughts. Maybe they weren't angels . . .  
  
"Get out of here and stop nosing around." said the other one.  
  
Not angels? Actually I'm not sure I ever really believed they were, but they did not seem really human either. But a human who had never been in the sun? No way. Or at least, they would look extremely unhealthy. . . severe vitamin D deficiencies, and I know not what . . . rickets, or something . . .  
  
One of the angels turned to the other.  
  
"They say they doesn't understand the common tongue, and are . . . well . . . mentally troubled."  
  
"I heard about that," said the other meaningfully.  
  
It had taken a little desperate sign language on my part, but eventually they had understood, and had show my to where the toilet was. And now I was back in my room sitting on the bed, with my feet hanging over the side, wondering what to do now, and what it was exactly I had been following around.  
  
Human would be the easiest answer . . . but humans do not ever have such perfect uniform features. They always have something, like a biggish nose, or crocked teeth, or scars . . . zits . . . bruises . . . moles. . . a tan . . . and no one, NO one, ever, ever, ever had perfect skin like that. Maybe it was just the lighting. . .I pondered that one. What if I looked like that too? Actually that wouldn't be bad.  
  
Looking down I myself, I disproved that inviting theory. I look worse that I usual did. What I could see was covered in scratches, and scabs. My one foot looked especially bad. The bruising was pale, but my foot was a scabby mess. No wonder it had hurt when I walked. Yuck.  
  
And besides they walked without making noise. And they were really . . . graceful. Where they perhaps . . . unn . . I had never in my life even in the slightest believed in them . . . but were these . . . aliens from outer space. The thought that those really bad old science fiction movies about "highly advanced aliens" could be true sent a shiver up my spine. Besides they always wore really shiny clothing with large diamond shaped collars, spoke english . . . or were out to destroy the Earth . . .  
  
I glanced up. The bath barrel was upside-down, and in a corner drying, and I could see there was something on it. I walked over, and illuminated in the light burning in the hall I instantly recognized what was on it. All my clothes were lying, washed . . . and patched up with a great deal of care. I examined my socks more closely. The holes had been patched up with wool thread, and since white was apparently not a practical colour for feet, or they couldn't match the colour, they had dyed them. There was something else. Sitting to one side was a pair of shoes. I lifted them up. They were beautiful, but more beautiful was the gesture. I instantly felt bad for ever thinking anything ill about these . . . aliens . . . or whatever they were.  
  
The Notes: I'm going to figure out away to get the italic etc. etc, to actually show up, but until then, it is as you see.  
  
P.S. thank you to all those who have reviewed. 


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